


angels weren't watching over you

by captainhurricane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1365838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester is killed by a demon on a cold November-night. Mary Winchester covers her heart with steel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	angels weren't watching over you

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been intrigued by this particular what if-scenario. And while I have a hard time believing Mary would actively subject her children to the hunter-lifestyle, I think she'd do something to ensure they'd survive the encounter. 
> 
> psst i don't even watch this show anymore.

Just a few hours ago Mary Winchester and John Winchester were the caring parents of two boys, Dean and Sam. Just a few hours ago Mary leaned down to kiss little Sam’s forehead and send him to sleep with a few rocks of his crib; John took Dean in his arms and grinned when his boy gave him a hug. The night was settling in Lawrence, Kansas and John and Mary Winchester were tired, but happy. Mary held memories within her that she couldn’t share with her husband, a past she refused to reveal, demons and ghosts, everything lying in wait close enough for you to get a peek if you just looked hard enough- John held the memories of a war and countless nightmares, found himself tinkering with their old car again and again, the sound of her motor making it all better. 

Mary brushed her long, blonde hair in front of the bedside mirror, John in the living-room watching tv. Dean and Sam were both fast asleep in their rooms, those nice, quiet kids they were. The angel-statue by Sam’s crib had been there for over four years, since Dean had been the one in that crib. Angels weren’t watching over this family that night. No flapping of wings present when John and Mary settled down to sleep, him in the couch and her in the bed. 

x

A sound, a heavy footstep waking John up when the clock was striking two in the morning, when the dark of the night was the heaviest. 

"Mary?" 

John peeks into the bedroom, only to find his wife (oh, how he loves Mary, loves her stubborness and her kindness, loves her long golden hair and mystery of her smile) fast asleep. The sound is heard again, the footstep and the shuffling of a crib. A cry of a baby. 

"Sammy?" John hurries up the steps, forgets that he left the tv on. His own footsteps are louder than necessary, but Sam is crying now and the heavy scent of danger is in the air. The soldier-side to John that never truly left is telling him of danger, danger, back off now. 

The door to the nursery creaks as it opens. (Were this a tv-show, there would be an ominous twinge of a piano-key by now). The window is open and the dark figure hunched over Sam’s crib sends a chill down John’s spine. 

"Who are you! What are you doing to my boy!" 

In the flash of lightning and moonlight John sees the bright, gleaming yellow of the stranger’s eyes and the momentary confusion flashing through the unseen face. 

A charge towards the stranger ends up with John doubling over in pain, clutching his stomach. The stranger speaks nothing, only points a hand towards him. Sam cries louder. Why isn’t Mary waking up? John coughs, looks down to find only red. His head spins. It’s unceremonious, really. The way John Winchester, a veteran of a war he never wanted to fight in, just finds himself dying, his younger son crying in fear an arm’s length away and nothing to be done about it. 

"Mary!" John cries out, all air leaving his lungs once the stranger (oddly enough), waves a hand and bangs John against the wall. Now John is a big man, broad shoulders and dark, pained eyes and is not so easily thrown but this stranger does so. 

x

The night is dark and John Winchester is dying, never knowing why.

The night is dark and Mary Winchester runs to find the nursery in flames, to find the breath finally leaving her husband’s body. 

The night is dark and Dean Winchester holds his little brother in his arms watching with wide eyes as the old house is engulfed in flames. 

x 

I went to Missouri and I learnt the truth. 

Mary Winchester writes a diary and finds momentary refuge in Missouri Moseley’s apartment; a psychic and someone knowledgeable of all things in life and in death and in beyond. Missouri gives her a hug and offers her condolences even before Mary gets her mouth open. Her heart feels wrinkled and dead. John’s dying face stares at her when she closes her eyes. She doesn’t let herself cry, especially not when Dean is watching her, never leaving his little brother’s side. 

"I want to know the truth," Mary says and Missouri smiles then, with warmth and compassion. Mary hasn’t taken off her wedding ring. 

"I think some part of you already knows it," Missouri says gently. The boys are sleeping, Dean refusing to sleep far away from his brother anymore. The blood found on Sam’s forehead that night makes Mary’s skin crawl and in a way, yes, she knows. 

"I left that life behind! For a reason!" Mary gets up to walk around, to spread her arms, to frown and to bite a lip. Her hair is askew, the messy bun not doing her any favours. Her bracelet clinks as she shifts. Missouri lets her walk, watches this tall, proud woman and sees the shadows in her and behind her, all around her, curled around her life never to leave.

"I refuse to put my babies through any of that. I- I refuse," Mary sits down, her jaw clenching. She dares not to close her eyes, her slender fingers curling into fists and then opening again. 

"There was a great shadow in your house that night," Missouri says after a moment of silence. She looks at Mary to find that Mary is avoiding her gaze. 

"And yes, something supernatural killed John. I cannot say what exactly it was but it was evil, oh, the mere presence of it has tainted your house. I am sorry, Mary, I am truly sorry but it will come after you again," Missouri whispers, she leans to take one of Mary’s clenched fists between her hands. There are tears in Mary’s eyes as she looks up from her lap. 

"What am I supposed to do? I- I thought- I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve seen supernatural beings of all kinds but nothing that would-" the lie passes through Mary Winchester’s blue eyes but Missouri makes no comment of it. It is not her place to put guilt on a woman already distressed and horrified. "I once made a promise to myself, way before Dean was born." Mary gulps, her face pale. "That I would never, ever throw my children into this life. They deserve to have a normal childhood and a normal life, far away from anything supernatural." She squeezes Missouri’s hands quickly before getting up again. She wipes her eyes, offers a quick smile. Missouri doesn’t smile back. 

"Mary-"

"No. Don’t tell me I can’t live a normal life. If this creature comes after me, I will do everything in my power to kill it but my boys will live healthy and happy with no knowledge of anything beyond the ordinary. I will not put them through such danger!" 

Missouri shakes her head. 

"This being has already marked your youngest," she says, quietly, her voice ringing with sadness. Mary takes a deep breath, the side of her that was and has always been a hunter eager to go after the creature and the side of her that is a kind, caring soul and a mother eager to go to her children and keep them close to her, keep them safe. 

"Will you be able to protect them when and if the being returns? I can see great many things but without even such a gift I can sense a being this evil will not give up. It obviously wants something from you- and your children." 

Mary curls her arms around herself and paces around and around again, her mouth in a thin, unhappy line. 

"Missouri, I can’t. I can’t subjugate them to a life on the road, teaching them how to handle a shotgun when Sammy is not old enough to even speak yet! And Dean hasn’t- hasn’t spoken a word since then and it worries me. Oh, I’ve been away from hunting for so long that I have forgotten so many things." 

"Oh, Mary. But you haven’t. Even now every instinct you have is telling you to go after this being, aren’t they? The hunting is in your blood, dear." Mary paces. Around and around and around. Missouri keeps her hands on her lap and sighs, heavily. The shadows move around Mary, each tugging her to a different direction. 

"I can’t leave my children alone," Mary finally whispers and stops. She stares out of the window into the cold night and a chill goes down her spine. John’s dying face will be there to welcome her once she settles down to sleep. 

"I will do what it is in my power to help you and your sweet boys but they will be in danger if they stay here." Missouri speaks like a mother, someone scolding her daughter and at the same time comforting her. It’s not your fault, it was never your fault. 

"They would be in even more danger if I let them into this life," Mary sighs and flops down, her hands on her face. Now the tears come, only a few weeks after the destructive fire and the last words her husband ever said to her. ("Good night, Mary.") 

"You decide what is good for your boys. I can only offer you a shelter and knowledge," Missouri says. Mary cries and knows that truly, she has already made her decision.


End file.
